The boys carry the sport still further and most local Ski-jumping competitions start with a demonstration by the boys, who often do not look more than 10 or 12 years old, and who go over the big jump as straight as their elders and usually a good deal more gaily, as they have not begun to appreciate the dangers. The smaller boys line the sides of the jump and pour out at the word of the judge on to the steep landing-slope like a lot of little goblins, jumping on their Skis horizontally to flatten away any track or hole made by a jumper who has failed to jump perfectly. Little chaps of seven or eight run through the woods on these occasions, swanking their turns through the trees and putting most grown-up runners to shame by their nimbleness. At Pontresina one winter I was much amused by one of these small children wearing a British third-class test badge which he must have picked up. I asked him where he got it, but he hurried away for fear I would claim it, and his Christianias through the big trees made me very envious.
Many of the children ski to school and back, getting endless practice all through the winter months.
May I here appeal to British runners who may have old Skis, even broken ones to throw away, to offer them to the local branch of the Swiss Ski Club as there is an organization which mends them or cuts them down for lending or giving to the school children, who are too poor to provide themselves with Skis.
When the beginner has learnt the elements of straight running and turns and begins to go off among the mountains the real interest of Ski-ing is begun, with the slow climb up in single file, first of all through woods and then out on to the open slopes. This is usually a silent game as breath is needed for the climb, and it is dull work keeping up a conversation with the back ahead. Sometimes, as one inadvertently steps on the Skis ahead, a gruff word is flung back and the trespasser is wise who stops, pretending to attend to his binding, or to look at the view—the view is usually worth looking at, too, as there is usually something to see. If it is not a distant view of the Great Alps or of the valley below, it is of trees or rocks, which, if examined carefully, usually show some sign of life. I remember being snubbed by an ardent Ski-er because I ventured to ask "What are those black birds?" "Who wants to know about birds when he is ski-ing?" was the answer. I did want to know, and I found out that they were Alpine choughs and I still want to know when I see the inhabitants of the mountains or their tracks.
Most of the wild animals use old Ski tracks as highways now, even finding it worth while to follow the zigzag of an uphill traverse. Foxes, hares and roe deer all use them, the roe deers' feet showing so much tinier than the chamois, who leaves a deep rough track as they usually run in each other's footsteps. The hare's track when running is two holes abreast and then two single ones. The fox runs rather like a dog. The squirrel hops two feet at a time, often leaving a slight ruffle on the snow as he swishes his tail. Among the cembra trees in the Engadine the snow may be sprinkled with the nuts out of the cones. They are delicious eating, being very like the Italian stone pine nut, or pinelli, and they attract the squirrels as much as they do the nutcracker bird.
Martens and pole cats leave distinct footmarks. Weasels, also, and these are easily recognized as they usually start from a hole under a bush or a rock. One day when a party of us were silently traversing a slope above Mürren a tiny brown ball came rolling down, which, when picked up, proved to be the warm dead body of a mouse. Looking up we saw a weasel peering out of his hole anxious as to the fate of his dinner. A mouse's track also usually starts from a tiny hole and the two feet go abreast, while the tail leaves a line all the way.
We nearly always see chamois and roe deer when ski-ing in the woods at Pontresina as it is a protected area and they are not shot and therefore become very tame. The chamois are driven down into the woods in search of the lichen which hangs like a beard from the branches of the cembra trees. On Muottas Celerina this winter we saw four chamois below us in the wood. Without a word our guide, Caspar Gras, dashed down the slope after them and very nearly caught one round the neck, as they were surprised, and knowing there was a precipice beyond the scrub below them, they could not make up their minds which way to go.
The roe deer scrape away the snow below the trees in search of alpenrose or bear berry leaves or dry blades of grass. They suffer more than the chamois after a heavy snowfall because they are not so strong and cannot scamper through it. At the beginning of this season, Klosters had a snowfall of some two metres and the roe deer were driven down to the villages where the peasants fed them in stables till the weather improved. Four were caught on the railway, having got on to the line at a crossing and being unable to spring out over the high banks of snow.
Ibex are being let loose in order to re-establish them where they were exterminated a few years ago. They can usually be seen through the telescope at Bernina Hauser above Pontresina, and also opposite Mürren. The ibex, or steinbock, is used as the Coat of Arms of the Canton of Graubünden, and is familiar to Ski runners as the badge of the local Ski Club of Zuoz in the Engadine.
After some controversy eagles are being encouraged to increase, having been almost exterminated. We saw a beauty sailing over the Muottas Muraigl Valley one day. There is even talk of trying to get bear back, but the peasants obstruct this as they were so destructive to sheep. As a child at Davos I saw three bears brought in dead by hunters, and remember with pride, mixed with disgust, tasting a bear's paw. A peasant told me of how as a boy he looked after the village sheep near the Silvretta Glacier, and of a bear who used to come and kill a sheep and then bury it in the ice for future eating.